


Six

by ofstardustandbruises



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, besides sansa of course, dogs are his love forever and all time, it is known, pure fluff, sandor has a lot of emotions about dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:37:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofstardustandbruises/pseuds/ofstardustandbruises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert had said that getting a dog for Sansa was better than keeping a direwolf, but Sandor decided one just wasn’t enough. Six was the magic number in his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sansa sighed. It was so peaceful in her little home, with the sunlight filtering through the window, soft music playing from the record player, and a book to pass the day away. She was going to miss the quiet in a few months, she thought, her hand slowing snaking its way to her stomach. The soft roar of Sansa’s SUV, which Sandor had borrowed for the day, comes up their driveway, and she smiled. Yes, everything was perfect.

There was a cacophony of quiet barking before Sandor burst through the front door of their home, making Sansa drop the book she was reading, a little shriek escaping.

“Sansa, I may have accidentally sort of adopted six dogs.”

Sansa’s head whipped around, the hint of a glare starting to grow on her face. Sandor’s face, though split by cruel burns, was also split by the dumbest looking smile Sansa had ever seen on Sandor. He looked like a child who was told Christmas was coming early, though he was the one who made Christmas happen seven months sooner. She could have sworn his tongue was hanging out a little in his excitement.

“ _Six dogs_? Sandor, we’re having twins in three months. _Clegane sized twins_. How are we going to take care of six dogs with two babies as well?”

His face dropped, looking exactly like a dog that’s been scolded for being too loud. “I didn’t think of that.”

“And what were you thinking when you adopted six dogs?”

Sandor scowls, and Sansa just knows that he wasn’t really thinking at all! How else could he think to ruin those last few months of just the two of them taking nice strolls in the park, sleeping all throughout the night, and watching movies on the couch? He’d be sprawled all over it, except for his arms wrapped around Sansa in his lap, a hand splayed across her stomach, almost covering it completely. And now there were _six dogs_ Sansa had to take care of as well as their children.

“Well, I couldn’t just leave them there, Sansa! They were going to be euthanized if no one adopted them. And I couldn’t just take one. They’re family! You can’t separate family, San,” Sandor rushed over to her, the grin slowly rising back on his face. He grabbed Sansa and carried her bridal style to the door. “C’mon, San. Let me show you? Please?”

But whether Sansa gave approval or not, Sandor nudged open the door with his toe and brought her to the car, conveniently parked right next to the chairs Sansa had put on the top of the driveway when they first moved in. Placing Sansa in the chair, Sandor walks backwards towards _Sansa’s car which now had six dogs in it_ , a dopey smirk plastered on his face as he opens the car door and those damned six dogs come bounding out of it.

“They’re not even all the same breed,” Sansa hissed.

Sandor held up his hand, “True enough. But look at them, San. Aren’t they perfect?”

They were not. They were yipping and barking and howling and running around everywhere, uprooting her flower garden and Sandor was just _too happy_ with all of this.

“I saw them yesterday when you had me go grocery shopping and I just—”

“ _YOU WHAT? YOU SAW THEM YESTERDAY AND THEN YOU DIDN’T TELL ME THAT YOU WERE GOING TO ADOPT SIX DOGS?_ I can’t believe you, Sandor _Cailean_ Clegane. Why didn’t you tell me?” Sansa starts crying, tears softly falling down her face.

Sandor rightly looks abashed, looking down at the dogs that started this whole mess.

“I just wanted you to be happy and I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t expect that you would be upset about it. I’m just going to be gone a lot for work after the twins come, and I didn’t want you to be lonely and feeling resentful that the only things I left you were two babies squalling all the time. I thought maybe a dog or two would brighten you up, but then I looked at these dogs and I couldn’t leave a single one of them. Will you meet them, San?”

Sansa’s huff of allowance made Sandor run after the closest one to him, and scooping the dog up, he ran over to her and sat down right at her feet.

“Okay, so this one is Winston. He’s a winner, he really is. He’s a Polish Tatra Sheepdog–c’mon, San, hold him–and he’s only about a year old. I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t take him, he’s adorable isn’t he. Aww he likes you! I bet they’ll all like you. Who wouldn’t? Do you like Winston, San? Say yes. If you say no, I’ll take him back…”

Sansa had to admit, Winston _was_ cute. All white with the only black spots being his eyes and nose? And he didn’t try to lick her, which was a bonus.

“Yes, we can keep him—”

Sandor kissed her right on the mouth, “Thank you, San, thank you thank you thank you. Okay, now onto the next one.”

Sandor leaped up and ran after a smaller dog, gray, and yipping at Sandor, as if daring the man to pick him up. But Sandor did, and scooped Winston off Sansa’s lap, and plopping this new intruder right where Winston had vacated.

“Okay, so get this, this one is named Ned—”

“There was a dog with the same name as my father?”

“Uh, sure, yes there was. Anyway, so Ned’s a Miniature Schnauzer. And look at how he glares at me just like your dad does, such a coincidence, isn’t it? He’s one of the older ones too, imagine that. Look at him, he growls at me when I get close to you. Such a protector. It seems like he likes you already, San, so say yes, okay?”

Ned was also sweet. It was almost like looking into her dad’s eyes, and the way the dog just grimaced at everything. Plus it would be fun to tease her dad with this dog…

“Okay, yes, we can keep him.”

“Oh, Sansa, you’re the best. Have I ever told you I loved you? Because it’s true and not just because you’re letting me keep these dogs and having my babies, but those are big important factors. Let’s keep that up, okay?” And stealing Ned away, Sandor placed Ned down on the ground and chased after yet _another_ dog, eventually catching this bigger dog that he sat with at Sansa’s feet.

“And what’s this one, Sandor?”

“I’m glad you asked, Sansa. This one here is an Australian Shepherd, but the people who owned her before wanted her to have a real American name, so I said, sure I can give this dog the most American name possible. And I did, San! You should be so proud of me.”

Sansa’s stomach sank a little, and it wasn’t because of the twins.

“So what did you name her?” she asked as she patted the head of the new dog.

“I named her Nascar Jesus.”

“Sandor…”

“Don’t worry, San! We can call her Nascar, if that’s better, and of course it’s better. I mean, I’ll still call her Nascar Jesus, but everyone else can just call her Nascar. And it fits! She loves running around; you saw her, right? The twins will love her when they’re older, so you can’t deny them knowing one of the most perfect dogs I’ve ever met, right?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. Sandor thought every dog he ever met was the most perfect dog. He’d see a dog and try to take it home with him, renaming it, too. Sandor would moan and groan about how it was just not fair that he couldn’t take this other person’s dog with him, and Sansa would have to remind him that it was illegal and she wasn’t going to support him in jail. Sansa’s birthday gift to Sandor last year was this big scrapbook she made with pictures of those dogs along with Sandor’s new names for them. He cried when he opened it, but Sansa also figured he was emotional after being told he was going to be a father too.

“Fine, we’ll keep _Nascar_.”

“Sansa, if we weren’t already married, I would stay down on one knee and propose to you. But what about I show you another dog, I think that’s a good substitute.”

“Sandor, I really wouldn’t mind another ring.” But Sandor had already dashed off after the next dog, and this one was _huge_. It was a wonder Sandor was able to carry it over, as it was almost the same height as Sandor when he was sitting down.

“Okay, so this one’s name is Ruffles.”

There was nothing ruffly about this dog, just fluffy and bared teeth. It looked mean until Sandor patted its rump and it sat down, and rolled over lamely. Sandor gave this beast belly rubs while he continued talking.

“This one is my absolute favorite. He’s full grown already, which is good because he’s already bigger than a Tibetan Mastiff should be, so he’s probably got some St. Bernard in him somewhere, which is pretty cool. The twins could ride him when they’re young! They could charge into battle, just like in your stories. Of course, he’s no horse but it’s still a pretty great image. And he’s so gentle, San, and so soft. If I could, I’d be a Tibetan Mastiff. Then you’d never stop touching me.”

Sansa glared at that last sentence, but Sandor only smirked a little more.

“What do you say, darling?” Sandor rasped. “Yes to Ruffles? He’s basically like me so I don’t know how you could say no.”

Sansa was almost tempted to say no, no to all of them, but she couldn’t do that to Ruffles. Ruffles did nothing wrong. It was her stupid, idiot husband who didn’t know how to just walk away from a dog.

Sansa growled out a _fine_ and Sandor let out a yelp of excitement, fetching the next dog to be presented. Ruffles just stayed there, on his back, and he scooted a little closer to Sansa, whining, absolutely begging to have his belly rubbed again. Sansa leaned over as much as her giant belly would allow, and rubbed Ruffles’ belly, though far less vigorously than Sandor did. _Stupid, dumb husband giving me Clegane sized babies and at least four Clegane sized dogs. Six dogs! I’ll kill him one day, I’ll just set these dogs on him. That’ll show his stupid, dumb face exactly what I’ll do to him when all this is over._

But then there was another dog, and another smile on Sandor’s stupid, dumb face. Ruffles just sniffed and this new dog shook its wrinkles as it sneezed.

“This lovely lady is named Smushface. I’m sure you can see why. Look at all those lovely wrinkles. What a beautiful bloodhound, wouldn’t you agree, San? Look at what you can do, San, look, you can smush her face. She loves it. Her head is getting so hot, feel it. Look at this wrinkle baby, such a pretty puppy. Don’t you agree, Sansa? Can we keep her, please?”

Smush’s eyes looked up at her, and when Sansa quickly glanced over at Sandor, the expression was the same. Even the droop of the eyebrow over his scar was the same droop on Smush’s face. It was uncanny.

“Sure, Sandor. We’ll keep Smush.”

Sandor kissed Sansa’s face all over, and Smush licked Sansa’s hand a few times before trotting off to sit next to Nascar. Sandor tore off after the last dog and led it back to Sansa. The dog slowly walked behind him, grace and poise exuding from every fur. When it sat, it did so gently, combating Sandor’s heavy plop next to Ruffles, resuming the belly rubs.

“So this girl reminds me of you, Sansa, and that’s why I had to have her. I mean, she even walks like you did before you got pregnant. We could name her after you?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Okay, good, her name was Louise anyway. Isn’t she gorgeous, San? She’s an Afghan Hound. Look at that fur. I mean, sure, it’d going to be a hassle to take care of, but I’ll do it! I’ll take care of them all. I just really want you to say yes to her. She loves Ruffles. I mean look at the two of them together. Look how she sets her head right on his chest. Louise is absolutely, one hundred percent you in dog form. And you can't just say no to yourself, right, San?”

Sansa was really getting tired of all this saying yes to these dogs she didn’t even want in the first place, but Louise did really remind her of herself, so she found herself saying _yes we can keep her_ before she even knew she was going to say it. Sandor let out a howl of excitement, picking Sansa up again and twirling her around. Before he set her down on her feet, he kissed her soundly on the mouth, whispering _I love you so much; I always will_ before taking Winston in his hands and petting the dog with a passion that couldn’t be rivaled.

Sansa laughed a little bit, feeling slightly queasy from all the spinning. She couldn’t help but ask one thing.

“And these were all the names that the sellers named the dogs, right?”

“Well, no, I named the dogs. Dogs, to me!” And he ran into the house, the new pack racing after him, shutting the door quickly behind him when everyone but Sansa was safely inside.

Sansa took a second to register this fact.

“Did you name a dog after _my dad_?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, Sandor's middle name is actually a Scottish name that means young dog, so I think it fits perfectly with his character.  
> Second, most of those dogs' names are ones that people I know have actually used for their pet. Smushface was one of my dad's old dogs, Louise was the name of my old cat that absolutely hated me, Winston was a name that came to me in a dream a couple weeks ago, and one of my best friends actually has a dog named Nascar Jesus, but they call that dog a different name instead. I've always loved the story of how that last dog got its name, so this was a little homage to that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor names the dogs!

“Look at that open road, dogs! Don’t you just want to stick your head out and–what the fuck is this San.” Sandor picks up a sandwich wedged in the cupholder and grimaced.

It was a pickle, tuna, and chocolate sandwich. Catelyn had warned Sandor about the weird food cravings she would be having. Ned just glared at this giant who dared knock up his daughter, despite the fact that they had been together for five years, and married for three. _You would think the old man would be over that by now_ , Sandor thought, but he was reminded of the famous Ned Stark Scowl when he looked over at the passenger seat of Sansa’s car and instead of finding his heavily pregnant wife there, he found a tiny gray dog, glaring and growling at Sandor.

“Look, if you’re going to keep doing that–and seriously it’s been like over 30 miles, you can chill–I’m just going to call you Ned. Got it?” Sandor tried reaching over and petting the Schnauzer, but the dog just growled and snapped at him. “Okay, _Ned_ , I got it. No touching. You’re like Sansa when she’s reading a book…”

A sneeze from behind him makes Sandor look in the rearview mirror. Sprawled everywhere in the car are four other dogs, and one final one rests in his lap. Sandor had woken up at 5 that morning to go drive and pick up the dogs. He’d been thinking about this for a long time, and he wanted to do something really special for Sansa. Their anniversary was coming up, and he thought maybe doing something with dogs would make it the most special anniversary they had to this day. _Maybe some sort of scavenger hunt_ , he managed to consider before the dog sneezed again. The dog that sneezed was a bloodhound, her wrinkles flying everywhere.

“Hey girl, you got some allergies? Don’t worry, Daddy Sandor will get you some medicine when he goes to work tomorrow. I haven’t named you yet, hell, I haven’t named anyone but Ned yet!” Sandor has five dogs to name before he gets home, which will only be in about twenty minutes, and if Sansa’s going to say yes to all six of these wonderful dogs, then they’re going to have to have names.

Sandor reaches behind him to pet the sneezing bloodhound, but the dog rests her face in his hand instead. Sandor squeezes the face a little to determine exactly which dog it is, since he is driving, and the dog makes happy yips.

“I suppose I’ll call you Smushface. San will think it’s cute, I think. Hi, Smushface, you’re a good girl, Smush.” The thumping of a tail in the backseat lets Sandor know that Smush loves her new name. Four more to go.

“Who’s next?”

A bark from the Australian Shepherd reminds him of what the farmers he adopted her from said. A real American name for this dog, they said. He thought of Rex, or Spot, or some other dog name, but it wasn’t American. Patriot? Too old. Wild West? Too stupid. It wasn’t until he saw two billboards; the one that made Sandor a little freaked out: _Jesus is watching you_ , and the one that was promoting NASCAR style racing on May 29th.

“I got it! Nascar Jesus. That’s American! That’s basically the most American name of all time. Nascar Jesus. What a good name, Sandor.”

The Afghan Hound that reminds him of Sansa sniffs in disdain at a name like that, just like Sansa did when Sandor said he didn't like the name Louise for his daughter. Sansa said she liked it for its "elegance," but it sounded like a name his grandmother would have liked, and that's never a good sign.

_But maybe_...if Sandor named this dog Louise, then Sansa couldn't name their daughter Louise! It was perfect, actually.

"You're Louise now. I'm not changing that, so you'd better like it."

Louise hummed in approval, even though Sandor wasn't sure if dogs actually could do that.

The dog sitting next to Louise was a huge Tibetan Mastiff, long, fluffy fur ruffling in the wind. Sandor didn't have much time left before he made it home, and he thought Ruffles was the name of that dog in the first Harry Potter movie (he refused to read the books, much to Sansa's dismay), and if it was, good for him. If it wasn't, Sansa never needed to know he never really paid any attention to the movies anyway. Sometimes he messed up what happened in Sansa's fanfic with the real plot, but he didn't really care when he pointed at the Mastiff and shouted, "Ruffles!"

Ruffles' bark boomed, and the last dog let out a tiny yip in his lap.

Three more minutes until Sandor got home.  

Sandor started panicking. This was too short a deadline, especially since so much was riding on all the dogs having names. If he pulled this off, he might win some tonight.

Win some.

Sandor pulled onto his street: Linston Dr.

_Winston_!

“Hi, Winston. You’re such a good boy, yes you are, you definitely are.”

Yes, Sandor was a good boy, indeed.

  


 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It looks like my previous chapter summary didn't save. Thanks AO3!   
> But yes, we're going back in time to the two dogs that started it all: Stranger and Lady. I'm planning on the chapters jumping around in time, but chapters 4, 5, and 6 take place after chapters 2 and 1. I'll make sure the chapter summary actually...goes up next time...

Sansa and Lady had just finished their first walk of the summer after Sansa’s sophomore year of college, when a man and his ferocious black dog blocked her escape to the driveway. She had never seen this man up close before, having only seen him from a distance when Arya pointed him out to her just last night. Apparently, he was their next door neighbor, and Arya would pay him to walk Lady, because Arya complained that Lady was too much of a stuck-up like Sansa to actually have fun on walks.

Sansa started a little when she actually raised her eyes to meet this next-door stranger’s face, because the scars on his face were horrifying. How could anyone go out in public looking like that? Sure, he must have some idea of what he looks like, because it looked like he tried to cover his scars with his hair. He did a very poor job of it, though.

_I should probably thank him for walking Lady while I was off at college…_

“Thank you, sir, for walking Lady–”

“I think Stranger here got Lady pregnant.”

If Sansa had been startled by this man’s scars, it was nothing compared to the utter horror that somehow Lady had gotten pregnant with this man’s beast. She didn’t even know this man’s name, other than the fact that Arya teasingly called him The Hound. He was certainly hounding after her now, because he just would not _shut up_ about Lady being pregnant.

“I don’t even know your name, but I think that since my dog and your dog are going to have a puppy family in about...fifty days, we should raise this little puppy family together.”

Sansa didn’t know why, but this man just was getting entirely too excited about this. Why did no one tell her that Lady was pregnant? She thought Lady was spayed, for crying out loud. And cry she did. For some reason, all of these tears started flowing down her cheeks. When she looked back up at the scarred stranger and his dog Stranger, his eyes were wide and wild, like he thought that the fact that Sansa’s perfect dog being pregnant was a good thing. Both human and dog counterparts so exactly alike, it seemed to Sansa, that hearing the news that Lady was pregnant with Stranger’s puppies felt the same as though she was pregnant with the scarred stranger’s own child: horrible. _As if that would_ ever _happen, Sansa._

But the damned stranger just moved closer to her, holding his arms out as if that was going to make her feel any better.

“Fuck, shit, please don’t cry? I really thought that would be good news; I mean, puppies are amazing, right? And they’re going to be a mix between my Irish Wolfhound and your Alaskan Malamute, which is going to look pretty damn adorable—please stop crying—and my name’s Sandor, by the way. I probably should have started off with that first, huh?”

Hiccupping and nodding slightly, Sansa tried to calm herself, she really did, but she wasn’t even going to be here in a couple of months. You can’t _raise_ a puppy family if one of the parents is going to be at college. She was about to tell him so, but all that came out of her mouth was, “How did you know Lady’s a Malamute? Everyone thinks she’s a husky…”

Sandor just grinned, and his scars were even worse that way. She wished he would stop smiling.

“Let’s just say, little bird, that I am a dog extraordinaire. Plus she doesn’t look like a damn husky, or act like one either.”

“My name’s _Sansa_ , not little bird. Where’d you even come up with a stupid nickname like that?” Sansa was still sniffling and she hated it. How could he be so nonchalant about this debacle?

“Well, there’re little birds all over your dress. But, San–”

“San _sa_.”

“San, will you raise this puppy family with me?”

All Sansa could do was scowl as he dropped to his knees and threw out his hands like he didn’t have a care in the world, as if he was proposing to marry her. _Never ever._

“Fine. I’ll help take care of Lady until I have to go back to college, but that’s it. I don’t want any other part of this.”

And all he did was grin even more. Sansa decided she hated that grin and never wanted to see it again.

* * *

Sansa _loved_ that grin. Every day after Sansa finished work, Sandor would be waiting in his pickup truck, trying to be cool as he leaned against it, with a baseball cap slung low over his brow. The image was usually ruined when Sansa saw Stranger and Lady hanging out the window, because Sandor would put his own sunglasses on Stranger and Sansa’s hats on Lady, because he said it made them look cool. It made Sandor look like a lovesick fool over the dogs.

And even though he would scowl and say he’s not a gentleman or a sir or a _fucking night in shining armor, what the fuck, San_ , he’d always get the door for her. Whenever they went on walks with the dogs in the blazing summer heat, he’d always stop and hold Lady’s leash whenever Sansa saw something pretty to photograph. One time she even caught him grinning, and she keeps the grainy photo in her wallet, though she’d never tell him.

One day he picked her up without the dogs, and he was wearing something nice for once. He drove off to a secluded area, where a picnic was set up, and there were no dogs in sight. Sansa thought it was the most gentlemanly thing he’d ever done for her, and when he asked her to be his girlfriend, even if it was going to be long distance for another nine months, she said no.

“What? Why not? San, I thought you really liked me…” Sandor spluttered.

“Oh, Sandor, I do like you! But you’re like, a hundred and eighty-two years old.” Sansa inwardly grinned when Sandor looked at her in shock.

“Sansa...I’m only twenty-six. Remember? We celebrated my birthday a couple weeks ago?” Sandor wouldn’t stop looking at her like she was mad, and his pitch only increased in desperation.

“Darling, I’m talking dog years.”

And _there_ was that grin Sansa loved so much.

* * *

If Sansa thought it was hard enough to see Sandor drive away from her work when he dropped her off, it was even worse to hear his voice outside her window at three in the morning, telling her that Lady was in labor. Sansa had rushed down the stairs and into Sandor’s waiting arms before they sprinted off next door. Sandor had insisted the puppies were born there, because he knew the signs of labor, and Sansa didn’t. Even though Sansa had huffed over that declaration, Sandor was right.

But it was Sansa who stayed calm and collected while Sandor paced back and forth, biting his fingernails and pulling at his hair. _He’s the worried mother here_. Lady didn’t seem to care much that she was in labor, but Stranger was running the carpet down in circles, much like his master. Sandor didn’t even notice when the first puppy came out, even as Sansa had yelled at him to get his _fucking ass moving over here, goddamnit Sandor, I thought you said you knew what you were doing_. Sansa had just stuck the puppy in his arms with a towel and told him to rub the fur the wrong way, and went back to helping her dog give birth without her idiot boyfriend’s help.

In the end, Sandor had collected himself, and he and Sansa helped Lady birth four puppies, all with the fur coloration of their mother and the curly hair of their father. Sansa had no sooner put the last puppy down when Sandor leaned over to her and kissed her so passionately that Sansa felt she would never come down from her cloud again.

* * *

Sandor would drive up to Sansa every other weekend to see her at college, bringing Lady and Stranger and their puppies with him. Sandor couldn’t bear leaving the puppies with anyone, and even as Sansa had suggested against keeping four puppies, Sandor insisted they stay with him. It wasn’t until Sansa had just graduated that he asked her to move in with him and the dogs that she tried to put her foot down.

“San, you promised me that we would raise this puppy family at the very beginning of this summer. I’m not going to send The Colonel, Alice, Princess, or Sandy away, okay? They’re our puppies. _We_ gave birth to them.”

“Actually, it was _Lady_ that did all the birthing, Sandor. But dammit, fine, you can keep the puppies. I just don’t think it’s logical or economical or even plain sane. I mean, _six dogs_ , Sandor.”

But Sandor just smiled and kissed her anyway. And dropped down to one knee in the mocking pose he pulled off almost a year ago.

“Sansa, mother of my puppy family, will you marry me and make more pups with me?”

When she said yes, Sandor kissed her face all over, despite the glares from Ned, and the puppy named after Sandor himself trotted over and licked Sansa’s brand-new ring.

* * *

Sansa did not want to live next to her parents, and neither did Sandor, especially as he was going to do _unspeakable things_ to Ned’s daughter. Sansa and Sandor finally settled on an apartment to live in while their own house was being built an hour away. The only problem was, even though Sansa didn’t think it was until Sandor said they clearly could not take it, that the apartment did not allow six dogs in a single apartment, or rather any dog at all.

“Sandor, it’s a perfect apartment for...what we'll be doing, and Lady and Stranger and all the puppies will be at my parents’ house until we’re truly settled into our own home. We’re only half an hour away from my parents right now, which is only an hour and a half from our new house! You can see the dogs every day if you want, okay, darling?”

Sandor didn’t like it one bit, and even though he moaned and groaned about it, it wasn’t after he moaned and groaned because of Sansa’s attentions that he agreed that _maybe_ he could tolerate living in the apartment for nine months, but only if he and Sansa could see the dogs every day and still take them on walks. Sansa agreed, with another smile on her face as she kissed Sandor all over, finally having won some argument about the dogs’ welfare.

Sansa did not win the argument five months later when she was walking down the aisle, her father on one arm, Lady trotting next to her on the other side, and seeing Sandor with what looked like tears in his eyes–she’d tease him about that later–though it’d serve him right if it were allergies from the five other dogs surrounding him.

But she loved that grin he gave when she said she’d love to make many more puppies with him for the next seven hundred dog years.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a couple months after chapter 1 (again, still don't believe in chronological order for this story...oops)

Sansa never felt more like a beached whale when Sandor held out his hand to ask her to dance. It didn’t matter that she was about to burst because of the twins or that she could barely walk as it was, Sandor wanted to dance with her. She had no idea why, especially because she was so close to her due date, but she had a suspicion it was because she cried earlier over rewatching hers and Sandor’s first dance at their marriage reception.

Sandor just put on “Oh, What a Night” and held Sansa as close as he could, which wasn’t that close at all because of their Clegane babies. Sansa sighed, feeling Sandor kiss the top of her head as they sway back and forth in half-time with the music. She has never loved him more in this moment, though she thinks that will change when her babies are finally born.

But then there’s one of Sandor’s damned dogs at her feet yipping and prancing around. Of course, it’s Ned, and there he goes, trying to attack Sandor’s feet. She _does_ love the dogs, but she only wanted this one moment with Sandor. Was that really too much to ask? Her parents and Rickon and Bran were already over here every day, and Robb and his wife and child every other day, and sometimes Arya would come over and play video games with Sandor and Jon and Robb, but never was there any time alone for Sansa and Sandor. And there wouldn’t be any alone time after the babies were born.

“Sandor, can you get Ned out of here?”

“San,” Sandor murmured, “he’s not doing anything wrong. Let’s just dance, okay?” He took one of his hands wrapped around her waist and brought it up to her face, tilting her eyes up towards his. “I love you; always will. So just forget Ned’s there.”

Sansa’s smile made him bring her even closer, his hand slipping back to her waist, but not before making a detour to her belly, both parents-to-be feeling a tiny kick as he did so.

“I love—Sandor, get these dogs _out of here_!” Sansa’s own declaration of love was interrupted when the rest of their five dogs came barreling in, Ruffles jumping on Sandor, Winston play-wrestling with Ned, Nascar barking up a storm, and Smushface and Louise just sitting down right between the two dancers. This had to be a sign from the gods, every single one of them, that Sansa and Sandor would never have a time of peace and quiet.

Sandor detached himself from Sansa, and tried shooing the dogs out of the room and into the wide-open space that was the backyard, but Louise tripped into Nascar, who ran into Ned, who bit Ruffles’ heel, and this last dog ran right into Sansa. Sansa groaned low, and felt something trickle down her leg. Her water had broken.

“Sandor, forget the dogs. Call Robb or Jon or someone to take care of them. We need to go to the hospital.”

Sandor’s face was as white as she had ever seen it before, his eyes and mouth agape, Winston in his hands struggling for freedom. Sansa threw up her hands in exasperation and a strangled noise came unbidden out of her mouth.

“Sandor, stop standing there! Go get my bag in our room, the red one, darling. It’s all packed with what I need, and what you’ll need too, okay? I’ll go in the car, and I’ll leave a key under the door for one of my brothers, and then I’ll call my parents, Robb, and Jon. I’ll call everyone. Come here, baby.” Sansa beckons Sandor with her finger, and Sandor mutely comes, absolutely shell-shocked that he’s going to be a father in a matter of hours. Sansa takes Winston out of his hands and sets the dog on the ground, and he sprints off to who knows where, but Sansa doesn’t look as she takes Sandor’s face in her hands and kisses him: first on his good cheek, then the tip of his nose, thirdly his scars, his forehead and his two eyes that fluttered shut, and his mouth at last, a smile on her lips as she did so.

“Go, now, get the bag. I’ll be waiting in the car.”

* * *

Sandor had never been more terrified in his entire life. _Being burned was nothing compared to this_ , he thought as he paced the halls outside his wife’s hospital room. She threw him out after he had gotten in the way of the doctor yet again, and screamed at him that she was never going to have his children again. He wished that he was the one giving birth, or at least that he could share the pain with her, or take it entirely. He thought she never looked so beautiful as she was walking around the room, sweat darkening her hair, hand on her swollen belly. Even her eyes were beautiful as she whipped towards him to tell him to _get the fuck outside, Sandor_ , though he did hurry to get out of their stare.

His father-in-law glared at him as Sansa’s voice pierced the air and Sandor held his head in desperation, gripping his hair so hard he thought he might rip it all out. Catelyn just smiled and opened her mouth to speak.

“How are the dogs doing?” Ned looked at his own wife like he’d been betrayed—his son-in-law should be punished for making his baby girl suffer.

“Oh, uh, they’re doing just fine. You know,” Sandor muttered, Sansa still on his mind, “just running around, barking, getting on Sansa’s nerves when she’s trying to sleep. The usual.”

“Well, that’s wonderful. Sandor?”

“Yes, Cat?”

“Ned and I were wondering if you’d like to take Lady and Stranger and their puppies, though since they’re around three years old now, they aren’t really puppies anymore. You and Sansa have lived in your house for a while, and you can think of this as our present to you both and your babies.”

Sandor felt like he was going to cry. Sure, he saw the dogs almost every single day, but now they’d all be his and Sansa’s again. Catelyn saw that look in his eyes and held her arms out, much like how Sansa did when she wanted a hug. His hug for his mother-in-law was all the response she needed, and she patted his back slowly as they waited for any news on Sansa.

It was only a minute later that a nurse came to the group, telling them that Sansa had requested their presence as she gave birth, with an explicit warning to Sandor and Ned that if they made a big deal out of this or got in the way, Sansa wouldn’t speak to them for a week.

Sandor moved to Sansa’s right, stroked her hair back and kissed her forehead before she took his hand in hers, grasping it like it was the only tether onto this world. Sansa whimpered and his heart broke, and he started whispering sweet nothings into her ear, and maybe a few things of what he would do to her after they were all back home and settled. Sansa yelled at him, saying he’d never touch her again if this is what comes of it.

But Sansa refused to push when the doctor told her to, complaining it hurt too much, even through the painkillers. Sandor tried pleading with her, then commanding her to _push, dammit, San, push_ , but she kept refusing. _Well, maybe if I take her mind off the pain, then she’ll push._

“Sansa?”

“Yes, stupid?”

“I just thought I’d let you know that Lady and Stranger and The Colonel and Alice and Princess and Sandy will be living with us once the twins are all settled. Your parents said so.”

Sansa’s face was a deep purple before she took a breath to give Sandor the biggest rant she’d ever thrown at him.

“You _MOTHERFUCKING IDIOT_. We already have six dogs and _now_ you want six more to live in our house? How are we going to pay for TWELVE FUCKING DOGS, SANDOR? And two babies and the two of us! You eat like five horses every day, you stupid, fat oaf. I don’t know why I ever married you if you keep thrusting dogs at me, expecting me to like them. You’re right, Dad, I never should have married Sandor. I mean, can you imagine me with _him_? This idiot thinks he can have me and twelve dogs. I don’t think so! I should just pack up and leave him if he thinks that I can handle him, twins, and _twelve dogs_. I could cry right now; I think I actually am. I honestly should take that scalpel right there and shove it in your eye, or maybe both of them! I’m so fucking pissed and I hate you Sandor Cailean Clegane. I’ll never speak to you—”

“Sansa, we have a baby girl and a baby boy.” Sandor was wincing in pain, as Sansa had broken his fingers without even noticing. _It appears she didn’t even notice she was giving birth, much less that she pushed two Clegane babies out that fast…_

“Oh, Sandor, my darling. Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Sandor nodded in response to Sansa’s question, tears streaming down his face. If anyone asked why he was crying, he wouldn’t have been able to say. It was impossible to determine if he felt more pain from his broken fingers, or more happiness for finally having his babies in his arms.

It would also be prudent not to admit that he was crying because he finally had twelve dogs to pamper as well as his own pups, because there was Sansa kissing his face, softly apologizing for crushing his fingers.

They both smile as their children made quiet cooing noises, Sandor whispering so as not to disturb them.

“It was worth it.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes a few years after chapter 4, though chronological order doesn't really matter for this series!

Sansa regretted having everyone over for Thanksgiving dinner. There were her parents, then Robb and Jeyne and their three children, and Jon and Ygritte with their two boys, and Arya and Gendry with their newborn girl, and then there was Bran and Rickon with Jojen and Shireen. And of course, there was Sandor and their twins, _it’s hard to believe they’re four now_ , Kathleen and Aleksander. Alek was running around with the dogs, and Kat was just sitting with Arya, trying to hold her cousin Nym in her arms. Sandor was off who knows where, probably trying to make conversation with her father, though Sansa knew neither man wanted to talk to each other, but Catelyn and Sansa both _insisted_ they at least try to be civil for this meal.

Alek ran up to her, his red curls flying as the dogs chased after him. His steel grey eyes stared up at her as he tugged on her dress. Sansa crouched down, feeling a little nauseous as she did, but kept the smile on for her son.

“Mommy, when are we going to eat? Where’s Daddy? I forgot to show him a trick I taught Ruffles. It’s really cool, Mommy! I can ride him like a horse now. I’ll do it outside even! Mommy, please?”

Alek knew how to talk a mile a minute, just like Sandor did. He was always rambling about something, but Kat was different. She was quieter, more likely to curl up next to Sansa when she read her children a bedtime story. Sandor would snort, saying they don’t need these kinds of fairy tales. But when Sansa read them the originals before she left on a girl’s night out and Kat and Alek ran up to Sandor crying because they kept having dreams they would have their feet cut off, Sandor gruffly agreed with Sansa that _maybe_ the other fairy tales were better to read to them than the originals.

“All right, my little Alek, let’s find Daddy and you can ride Ruffles in the backyard.” She took her son by the hand and led him into the kitchen, seeing Sandor reaching into the fridge and pulling out beers for the men, Ned and Gendry talking about living with a new baby, Sandor and Robb and Jon chiming in with their own horror stories about never being able to sleep. A call from the living room stated that Ygritte wanted a beer, and Catelyn, too, and when Sandor turned back around to get the drinks, he noticed Sansa and his son standing there. With a wink at his wife, he turned and started to pour Sansa a glass of wine, one of her favorites that she never resisted.

But she refused it this time.

“Just a water, Sandor, I’m not that thirsty.” Sandor glanced over at her, confusion etched on his face, but he got the water for her anyway as Alek launched himself at his father’s legs and wrapped himself around them, giggling as Sandor played with his hair.

“You sure, San? Are you positive you aren’t sick? You sure you don’t need to lie down?” Sansa rolled her eyes. Her husband sure could be dense sometimes, but she loved him anyway.  

“Yes, I’m positive. It’s nothing I haven’t had before, darling,” she said as she reached over and kissed his cheek and then the other, just so he didn’t have any doubts. “I think Alek wanted to show you something though.” Sandor glanced down at his son, and even though she knew he would deny it, the look in Sandor’s eyes as he looked back at the same ones, only smaller, was one of absolute love and pride in his son.

“Well, what have you to show me, boy?” Alek’s mouth opened wide, a little gap in the front. He lost his first tooth early, and his sister was still upset that the tooth fairy hadn’t come to her yet.

“I’m going to ride Ruffles, Daddy! I can ride him like a horse now, an’ it’s really fun. I wish you could do it too, but you’re too big, Daddy. Kat doesn’t like it, but Kat doesn’t like anything. She only likes stories with princesses. It’s so boring, Daddy. Can we go to the animal shelter tomorrow? I want to look at the puppies. Not to get one, but I just want to look. Can we look tomorrow, Daddy? Please, Daddy?” Sandor leaned down to pick his son up and placed him on his hip, walking towards the backyard.

“Ruffles, come here!” Sandor called as he opened the back door. “And yes, I’m too big, huh? And we can go see the puppies tomorrow, if the shelter’s open. If not, we’ll go another day. But don’t be too hard on your sister, Alek. She’s your mother’s daughter, and I want to keep her that way for a long time.”

Alek wiggled in his father’s arms, Sansa noted as she watched from the doorway, her son’s voice crying out as he asked, “Then what am I, Daddy?”

She smiled when her husband replied, “You’re my son,” and kissed his son on the forehead. She remembered when she first told Sandor she was pregnant. He was so terrified he wasn’t going to be a good parent, even though he desperately wanted to be one, if only for Sansa’s sake. It wasn’t until she kissed him, once on each cheek, that he calmed down long enough for him to hear her say that he wasn’t his father, and he certainly wasn’t his brother.

She heard the beeping from the timer a few minutes later, after she and her own mother watched Sandor run after Alek and Ruffles, and the two women prepared the food before calling everyone to the dining room. Apparently, that meant calling the dogs too, as they all crowded around the family’s legs.

Sansa saw out of the corner of her eye that her father of all people was feeding Ned the dog under the table, and as she shot him a glare which her father didn’t seem to notice, Sandor sat down on her left after lifting their children into their seats and giving Sansa a kiss on the cheek. Sansa noticed the glare her father gave Sandor, and the glare Sandor gave back at him, and when she locked her eyes with her mother, the two red-haired women rolled their eyes at the both of them. _Men_.

Sansa’s stomach was tossing and turning as everyone went around the table and said what they were thankful for, even though most of the things said weren’t actually serious. Arya said she was thankful to drink beer again. Rickon said he liked not being in detention all the time. Kat said she was thankful for books. Only Jeyne, Jon, and Catelyn actually managed to be serious before it was finally Sansa’s turn.

“There are quite a few things I have to be thankful for, but the one I want to really emphasize is—”

“NED, NO. DOWN.” Sandor yelled as the dog finally got impatient with being fed under the table, and instead jumped on it. The children shrieked in excitement, and Catelyn started to yell at her husband, and Ned yelled back at Cat and Sandor. Kat’s eyes started tearing up and Ygritte alternated between comforting her niece next to her and laughing at the spectacle with her own children. Rickon and Shireen started making bets as to what food would be devoured by the dog first. Nym started wailing as Arya and Gendry tried to get their daughter to calm down. Robb’s children started asking Jeyne when dinner was going to start. Bran and Jojen just watched quietly as Sandor and Jon tried to corner Ned on the table, who was running back and forth, his yips being drowned out by the other eleven dogs howling and barking at the noise.

Sansa had enough. She waited long enough to tell the news, might as well do it while her announcement will be lost in the din.

“I’M PREGNANT.”

Everyone turned towards Sansa, shock etched on their faces. She looked at her father’s face, who was turned towards Sandor, his glare radiating off his face at the man who dared get his daughter pregnant again. She cast her eyes over at her own children, and fortunately the two of them looked excited, even though Sansa wasn’t exactly sure if they knew what she just said.

Lastly, she looked full on at Sandor. He was standing there, Ned the dog in his hands, jaw a little slack and eyes misty. He finally came over to her, standing so high up over her as she sat in the chair and as he knelt down to look her straight in the eye, he set Ned down on the floor and put his hands on her belly.

“Really, Sansa? We’re having another baby?” He looked at her in awe. She nodded, a smile gracing her lips. “How much longer?”

“About six more months. I just thought that now would be the best time to tell everyone.”

When Sandor kissed her, Sansa faintly heard her children moaning an _ewwww_ and she thought her father said that too. Most of the women sighed lovingly, but Arya, Rickon, and Ygritte all yelled various cries of “Get it, Sandor!” And still Bran and Jojen said nothing.

But it didn’t really matter. In six months, their pack would grow a little more. And that made Sandor and Sansa smile when they finally broke away from their kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fabian is 10 and Evelyn is 4, just for age references!

Winston, who was so old now, rested in Sandor’s lap, snorting and legs kicking as he chased some imaginary animal in his dream. Sandor was just watching some daytime soap, Kat working on homework on the chair near him with Nascar lying on his daughter’s feet. Sandor didn’t know where the other dogs were, but Alek was at a friend’s house and Sansa was out Sevenmas shopping with the two youngest Cleganes: Fabian and Evelyn. So many years had flown by, and so many of the dogs had gone throughout the years. He and Sansa had discussed getting maybe some more dogs, maybe two puppies for the twins and stuffed ones for Fabes and Evie.

Sandor heard Kat sigh and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn towards him, a hesitant look on her face. He hoped she wasn’t going to ask him about geometry. He didn’t remember that crap at all.

“Dad?” He didn’t know when she started straightening her curly black hair, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. And when did she start wearing makeup anyway?

“Yeah, puppy Kat?” He tried suppressing a smirk when she groaned. She tried telling him she was too old for that nickname, but it was habit. He had been using it since she was born, after all.

“I really wanted to talk to you about something, Dad, okay? Something serious.”

It was like his whole world stopped right then. There were only two possibilities this could be, and he really hoped that it wasn’t the first one. He suspected this would come up soon, but he didn’t know it would be _this soon_. He would have read up more about this or at least would have initiated it on his own. But he’d support her no matter what.

“Are you pregnant?”

“Oh my gods, Dad, no!” Kat shrieked. “No, oh my gods, no. No. Nope. Absolutely not.”

“Thank whatever gods you believe in. I was really hoping it wasn’t _that_. But tell me if you ever do get pregnant, okay? Don’t hide it from us,” Sandor started to say.

“I’m not planning on getting pregnant, Daddy.”

“Most people don’t plan on it either, but it still happens, puppy Kat,” Sandor turned to look at his daughter, his grey eyes staring back at him. He was glad his little daughter looked like Sansa did; it was unnerving staring at his children and seeing himself reflected back. “And with this, I want you to know I support you one hundred percent. I only wish I knew more than I do about it, but we’ll go through it together, okay? Mom and I have your back, and we did say yes for your rights with the last vote. And if you want to talk about it, I’m there for you, my little puppy Kat.”

As he stopped to take a breath, Kat interjected: “Wait, Dad, what are you _talking_ about?”

“You’re lesbian, right? Or bisexual? Or transgender? That stuff, right? Sorry, I really don’t know a lot about it, so I’m not assuming anything about you or how you are or anything about it…”

“No! I’m straight, Dad. Or at least I think I am. And it’s LGBTQ, by the way.  But that’s beside the point. I just...I heard you and Mom talking the other night about getting puppies for Alek and me for Sevenmas…” Sandor didn’t understand why Kat was so nervous about this. She should be excited about getting a puppy. She _loves_ the dogs. Maybe not as much as Alek and Fabes and Evie did, more like how Sansa did actually. _Oh_.

“And what are you saying, Kat?”

“I don’t want a puppy! I want a kitten, if you’re going to do that. I like cats much better.”

Sandor was shocked. How could anyone _not_ want a puppy? How could his own daughter, the one who looked the most like him, especially now that their hair was the same length and the eyes were narrowed the same way? Even their noses are the same, much to Kat’s dismay.

“But...you love the dogs!” Sandor was struggling here, a first for the man in a long time.

“Yeah, I do, but we had twelve dogs, Daddy. I think that’s a bit much.” Kat sounded so much like her mother then, and he hated the little whine that came out of his own mouth—a whimper, almost.

“But you’re my puppy Kat!” Sandor hated he was crying now, and from the looks of it, Kat had no idea what to do. “How could I have failed you? We’re _Cleganes_. We’re dog people, not cat people. It’s been this way for thousands of years. I mean, you did know that our ancient crest has three dogs running through autumn grass, right? Right, Kat? You didn’t just forget that. And your mom isn’t a cat person. I don’t know. Maybe if you said you wanted a bird, maybe that I’d understand. But you wanting a cat? I don’t get it. Is this teenage rebellion? Is this because I didn’t let you go out today? Are you growing up and taking it out on me? Come here, puppy Kat,” she ran to him, and fortunately he moved Winston off his lap, because his almost sixteen-year-old daughter propelled herself into his lap. “Maybe I should have named you Dog instead of Kat.”

Kat sniffled in his ear, “Yeah, maybe you should have, Daddy.”

(Sansa found the two of them curled up like that, just sleeping with their chest rising up and down, and she couldn’t tell where Sandor ended and Kat beginned. She snapped a photo before they woke up, and neither Sandor or Kat would tell anyone what went on that day, not even at Kat’s wedding reception all those years later when Sansa showed everyone the picture.)

* * *

It was Sevenmas morning and Fabian and Evelyn were already jumping on Sandor and Sansa’s bed, screaming for them to wake up because there were presents to open. Alek and Kat were already downstairs, bleary eyed and just wanting to go back to sleep. They had turned sixteen only a few weeks before, and with a new car came new fights over who got to drive that day. Sandor had heard Alek complaining that the twins each should have gotten a car, but was silenced with only a stern glance.

But that was behind everyone as they all sat down and started opening presents one at a time, because Sansa said that meant everyone could truly appreciate them. Fabes piped up, saying that they would appreciate all the gifts if they could _play_ with them sooner. Sandor groaned and Evie giggled, scooting over to her father and sitting at his feet.

When finally all the presents were opened, Alek and Kat noticed there was an envelope at the base of the tree. Their names were each written it in Sandor’s scrawl, letting the two of them know that while their birthday car was mostly Sansa’s present, this one was entirely from their father.

There wasn’t much inside the envelopes, just a note telling everyone to go to the laundry room. All of the dogs were crowded around the closed door, and it was a struggle to get everyone through the throng of dogs, Evie giggling all the way. When Kat opened the door, the twins gasped and cautiously stepped in the room.

There was a little puppy with a red bow tied around its neck and an even smaller black kitten with a green bow. They were both trying to walk, as if the tiles were too cold for them in the winter.

"The puppy's for Alek–he's a Great Dane," Sandor muttered the part to Kat next, as if conceding defeat. "And the kitten's for Kat. I guess she's a black shorthair? I don't know, I just picked up the friendliest one with dogs at the shelter. These two are practically brother and sister. They don't know anything else, so you two are going to have to train them on your own, but Mom and I will pay for the vet and food. Deal?"

Alek and Kat turned around and hugged Sandor, who even after sixteen years was still surprised that his children weren't afraid of his attitude or his face. Through his thin tshirt, he felt the tears from both his son and his daughter seep through. He pushed them away, his hands tilting their faces up toward his own as he wipes their tears away, a trio of grey eyes staring at each other.

"Listen closely, you two. A dog will die for you, but never lie to you. And cats are bastards–"

Sansa slapped him on the arm.

"But they'll be there for you no matter what, even if they don't show it. You have to be there for them too. The moment I don't see that happening, I'll give them to your cousins. You understand?"

A chorus of yeses filled the air, even from Fabian and Evelyn. Sandor looked out of the corner of his eye at Sansa, who smiled at him. He was reminded of the time that Sansa told him they were first having a baby, because they didn't yet know it was going to be the twins. He was sullen and downcast; he worried he wasn't going to be a good father, that maybe his child would turn out like Gregor or he'd lose them like he lost his sister.

Sansa sat him down on the couch, placed herself down on his lap, and told him that she had every faith in him that he would be a wonderful father.

"You're already a father, Sandor. You just have to treat your child like you do the dogs. Not train them, but love them. Respect them and never lie to them. And look them straight in the face. They'll never fear you, and always love you."

He didn’t really believe it was true until later that night when all his children wanted him: when Alek asked him for help with training Denmark, when Fabian wanted Sandor to read him his new book (even if it was about knights in slightly dented armor), when little Evie wanted him to play with her new doll at an evening tea party.

_Maybe I haven’t failed my daughter yet_ , he thought when Kat brought Sebastian over to him and curled up beside him, Sansa doing the same on the other side. _Maybe she’s not done growing yet_ , he thought when Kat kissed him on his bad cheek and whispered a thank you in his ear after everyone but Sansa had gone to bed. _Maybe everything will be just fine_ , he thought as Sansa kissed that same cheek before they fell asleep, all their dogs surrounding their bed.

And at Evie’s wedding, when Sansa asked him if he remembered what he said the very first time they saw each other, he said that they were going to raise a little puppy family together.

“Yes, you did say that. But what did you _really_ say, Sandor?”

“I think what I really meant was I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, San,” he kissed her as he glared at his daughter’s new husband, understanding _exactly_ what Ned had. “For the next seven hundred dog years of my life, I’ll always share them with you, little bird.”

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad to say that this is the last chapter of Six. I really had fun writing this little universe, but I know the first chapter will be my absolute favorite always! And the last bit made me tear up even though this is supposed to be happier. Why do I love angst so much?


End file.
